Black Dahlia
by Sweet Remorse
Summary: Li Syaoran was an orphan since 10 years old, swore to himself he would become a CIA agent and revenge his parent's death. But what happens when he meets someone level headed with him in almost every aspect, but on his enemy's lines, the Black Dalia? SXS
1. Chapter 1

**Black Dahlia**

By: Sweet Remorse

A/N: My first story on this account! Yuppers...I hope it won't be such a bore. i hate the summary box so much! I have to sit in my chair and just think, for what seems like hours to find a good summary that'll fit the story. ARRR...sorry, but hey what's the use of limits in the words you can use? Huh?

This is more of a action type story with all these agents and such...but I guess you'll figure that out like...in the first section. Please review! Puppy eyes

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_♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣_

Sounds of desperate shouts and raw gasps for air imprinted Syaoran's mind. Showers of bullets rained down on the passengers of the plane. It was a perfect blending of music that brought out sadistic pleasure in the terrorists. An air rifle suddenly swiveled acutely to the left, in perfect target for where Syaoran's head was. His amber eyes widened and blinked shut. Half a second tops, Syaoran scrambled under his chair, his arms and legs sprawled out in painful angles. The bullets shot out and dug themselves deep into the armchair.

Sometimes when your mind shuts down completely and you're left there to stand completely blank of any thought, your survival instincts kicks in and amazing how fast you can move. The autonomic reflex system, primitive reflexes. Bam, bam, bam, and you happen to live on, take a new course for life.

Meanwhile, the other passengers that didn't happen to have such luck suffered watching other before them get splattered by their neighbor's and their own blood, waiting for their own turn. The crimson color of life was their last farewell.

Syaoran reopened his eyes again to find the bodies of both his parents lying on the red-stained carpet of the plane. Small hand guns were clutched tightly in their hands.

Mixtures of shock, confusion, fear, depression and self blame filled his sanity. A gunner walked past his hiding place, a twenty or so year old man with mousy black hair surveying the damage. His expression was blank but his eyes were dancing with amusement.

Syaoran didn't dare reach his hands toward the guns his parents had with them, and attempt to shoot the man. But he did take notice the badge the man and the rest of the terrorists wore.

It was a red circle, with a black flower on it, which he later found to be a group of Japanese terrorists by the name of _Black Dahlia._

At that moment, ten year old Syaoran swore to himself, he would grow up, become a respectable CIA agent like his father and mother and seek revenge.

_♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣_

"Who are you?" a cunningly looking man asked in a fatherly-sounding but demanding voice. The dining room where the man sat in a buffet table was elegant and furnished with beautiful details. A crystal chandelier hangs in the middle of the large room illuminating each and every corner and edge of the room.

Sakura looked up at the man in front of her, her jaw clenched. The man stood in front of her was her supposedly step-father.

"Sakura Kinomoto, father." Sakura responded monotonously. Her eyes were downcast and her body position was robotic like; back straight and erect, hands behind her, and eyes strongly averted to the floor.

"Where are you parents?" The man asked again, his eyes closed expecting the usual answer.

"They died during archaeology trip on a plane; you are my rightful father now." Sakura recited the lines.

"Who do you listen to and what is your purpose?" The man spoke while sipping his tea.

"I only listen to you, father. My purpose is to become the top Black Dalia assassin and eliminate all our enemies including the CIA." Sakura said her tone bitter and malicious.

"Why would you listen to me, little cherry blossom?" The man looked at her, carefully pronouncing the last two words in fluent English.

"Because you saved me, and took me in. Trained and fed me, turned me into who I am today." Sakura wondered why she had to repeat this everyday.

"And what happens if you 'accidentally' leak out information about the _Black Dalia_ to our enemies?" The man continued to read the newspaper.

Sakura narrowed her emerald green eyes. Never had her 'father' asked this question before. Was he suspecting her of betraying the group? Was it because the last mission she completed was a failure? A sudden wave of coldness spread throughout the room.

_"I die."_

_♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣_

A sudden vibrating brought the young man's attention back to the present. He ran a hand through his messy chestnut hair, while squinting uncomfortably trying to adjust to the bright light in his office.

Syaoran tugged his cell phone out of his suit pocket and glared at it fiercely. The vibrating had stopped; the other end had already set down the phone.

**Call Missed…**

**Number: ****714-525-1313**

**Call back: Yes l No**

Syaoran exhaled deeply, frustrated at the cell phone for no reason. Without hesitation he stuffed the small device back in his suit pocket, ignoring the call.

His eyes wandered back towards the flat-screen TV on the wall. The video was currently on freeze frame. The scene was in a ballroom, where many higher up class people flittered around. Most were either talking among themselves or sitting in a chair drinking a glass of wine. Few danced to the slow symphony music.

The dinner-party was held by a famous fashion designer, Elliot Anderson, a name known by most Americans. It was on June, 23rd, three days ago in Los Angeles.

Nothing seemed out of order, until five to 12 pm. An explosion in the kitchen followed by a minor fire. Strange thing was a sudden lock down. The entrance doors were automatically locked and metal slide shutters dropped down, preventing any escapes.

Someone had definitely messed up the system. Screaming and shouting were heard throughout the video.

No one was hurt, but Mr. Anderson was taken hostage by a lady around the ages of 20 with long black hair and green eyes. Or, better put it fake-hostage. The man had reappeared under one of the tables unconscious one hour later. Details of the appearance of the lady was very limited due to…everything.

Nothing made sense. Things just didn't go right. If the kidnapper and the their people wanted to kidnap Anderson than they could have, no problem with the whole mansion on lockdown. However they just caused some fright and slipped away.

Syaoran suspected something went wrong own their mission. Were they trying to steal something? Did Anderson not have it?

The main evidence was a pink, glass brooch shaped like flowers.

Those flowers were Nadeshikos, Syaoran guessed as he remembered the old flower garden their family used to have.

Nadeshiko are usually thought as more feminine and chaste. _Traditionally said for woman to look weak, delicate and gentle outside, but is able to cope with house holding, raising kids._

Very peculiar for a kidnapper.

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A/N: Heh, sorry, it was pretty short, but it's a beginning so...well in truth there's not reason but lets just leave it at that. ' I don't think I'll get that many reviews but oh well. It's fun to write anyways. 

Please leave any suggestions, questions or critisisms in either your review or as a message.

Ja Ne.!!


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N. -Thanks for the people that reviewed. I plan to make this a big project, and really would appreciate a few kind words or comments. _

_Chapter 2Leaving _

_A week later… _

The weather was still quiet chilly in Los Angeles, and predicted to rain later on in the afternoon. Syaoran looked outside from his drop down window in his temporary apartment. Skyscraper crowded the city, along with cars that honked constantly at one another. Visible black puffs of smoke came from various places. He turned his amber eyes back at his messy room. The apartment looked more like a hotel rather than a cozy apartment building, with its matching curtains, carpet, and bedcovers. The wallpaper was forest green, with beige stripes going up and down.

His mouth crinkled. His usual organized floors were covered with maps, and layout drawings of Los Angeles. Highlighters, pens, and markers were sprawled across the rug.

A faint vibrating sound disrupted the comfortable silence. A message was left on Syaoran's cell phone telling him a car for his upcoming mission was being dropped off.

Syaoran glanced at the windows again, finding a thin layer of what seemed to be frost coating the surface. He grabbed his black wool trench coat of the hanger and walked out of the door, double locking it.

Syaoran circled around the car brought over by the agency for his new mission.

A pitch black Vanquish S Aston Martin.

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

"I informed the rest of your squad, Agent Eriol, and Tomoyo to accompany you on this mission." A man around 30 instructed Syaoran. He was sitting in the middle of a dark octagonal room, filled with computers, and gadgets. A flat screened TV hanged from the ceiling against the wall. The man had messy russet hair and hazel eyes. His dress was dark, and faded into his surroundings, a black button down shirt, and a pair of casual grey jeans. With a flick of his wrist the once blank screened TV came to life.

'Taki', or what everyone at the base calls him, was the "commander" for Syaoran's CIA unit.

Syaoran turned his attention to the screen. The words 'Mission EST' came up followed by a photograph of a woman around the age 18 to 20. The woman had slate black hair that flowed past her shoulders. Two piercing indigo eyes were set delicately on her heart shaped face along with a pair of delicate, blood red lips. Her appearance was none less exceptional, than a model's.

Taki pointed his index finger at the woman on the screen. "Takara Nakamuru, daughter of Yoshifumi Nakamuru, a wealthy business man. He owns several companies in the United States as well Taiwan."

Syaoran nodded mentally taking points on the names.

"The mission is no where near complicated as your last. Involves no gathering of evidence or tracking down suspects. Your main goal is to protect Miss Nakamuru from any possible danger. A lower member of the Black Dahlia group provided us information during interrogation, for a possible attack on the daughter of Mr. Nakamuru, during her twentieth birthday party."

Syaoran narrowed his eyes, unknowingly, shifted into a guarded position.

Taki watched Syaoran with a grim expression. "I understand your emotions right now, Syaoran, but it's not yet our time to occupy our minds with Black Dahlia. Focus on the mission. The mission starts tonight, beginning with your flight Chicago, which I had Midori, my underhand schedule. A packet of information will be handed to you by Midori, when you leave here. You are due here, with a mission report five days from now, at twelve o'clock sharp."

Syaoran lifted two fingers to his forehead in a salute before turning heading towards the door.

"Good luck." Taki added.

Sure enough, a lady was standing outside the door with a black, leather tote bag, looking quite overwhelmed.

Syaoran glanced at the lady, presuming her to be Midori, before nodding his head towards the bag. She smiled gently, a blush tinting her cheeks before handing the overstuffed tote towards him.

Syaoran swung the tote over his shoulders and walked towards his new car. Clearly there was no time to spare, with packing clothes, gadgets, and weapons on his to-do list.

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Sakura stared at the wooden vanity table in her room, that she never used…at least as far as the word vanity went.

It wasn't there anymore.

It really wasn't there.

KAMI-SAMA, IT WASN"T THERE!

She had searched the whole thing, up and down, twenty thirty times already in the past hour.

Sakura swore she didn't leave anywhere around the base. She hardly ever wore it, only once in a while for good luck purposes. The last time she wore the thing was…a week ago! On a mission and after that, she didn't remember what happened to it.

Sakura clenched and unclenched her fists. Her green eyes flickered all over the room, searching for her most precious possession she had. It used to belong to her mother. Nadeshiko had stuffed it into her arms during the last breath.

A crystal Nadeshiko brooch.

She was so busy throughout the last few days that she had barely kept up with her meals, she hadn't noticed it was gone.

What if she left it during her mission?

What if it was just lying around somewhere in her bedroom?

What if enemies had picked it up and were now scanning it for fingerprints?

It might just be thrown somewhere in her old batch of clothes.

God, she had left evidence for her enemies.

Sakura's mind was torn by the two possibilities. Washi Mestuki, her 'father' had always lectured her on never leaving any evidence behind. No loose strands of hair if possible, which leads to why her auburn hair was only shoulder length and almost always tied in a ponytail.

Sakura tried to calm herself down. Think positively, she told herself over and over again.

Instead she let her hands drift over a canvas bag that Washi had given her this morning. Inside were her new mission papers. This time, her team was supposed to steal something off Takara, Nakamuru, whose father is a wealthy business man that stood third, fourth place in industrial ranks in the United States. While her team, which consisted of two others, Jack and Chiharu played diversion, her job was to steal a jade amulet.

A photograph slipped out from behind the stack of folders. It was a close-up of a piece of jade. A light greenish white round stone the size of a person's fist. There was nothing really special about it with the exception of several calligraphic writings.

Sakura folded the photograph and slipped it back inside the canvas bag.

An airplane ticket was stuffed inside a clear plastic folder. The word ' CHICAGO' was printed at the space next to 'arriving'.

Nakamuru's daughter was having a birthday bash, or so it was written on the paper and a masquerade ball was going to be held. Sakura smiled inwardly, things were going to be a lot easier.

Just out of her window, rain started pelting on the earth. Pretty soon a lightning striked the ground, jolting Sakura slightly. Sakura closed her eyes, and lifted her chin up in the air trying to imagine the feeling of rain against her cheeks. The humid, clammy scent that only belonged to the droplets of water from the sky. Storytellers describe it as sweet and earthly, but when you actually breathe in its smell, is that how it smells? Is it really the tears of the innocent? Is it really the finale touch to a magnificent romance?

Sakura wondered, opening her eyes revealing sparkling green eyes that had dulled into a lusterless sea green.

It's disgusting how people make up all these lies when they don't even know themselves.

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Thin wires wounded around the corners of the window with a small red light flickered in the dark. Every so often a faint buzzing sound could be heard from it. Sakura spat at it, hers eyes raging with detest.

Why use such things, when there was no way for anyone to escape anyways?

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Syaoran grimaced at the sight of his closet. He had been trying to avoid it for the past number of days. The top half was completely stuffed. From top to bottom with mini laptops, multiple cell phones, beepers and other CIA toys. The bottom half was filled with clothes that were folded. Were, being the keyword. As the top half increased the bottom started to crumple. And god, no doubt it would really suck…

Syaoran slowly slided the door open, a crushing weight smacked into his body.

A second later did he open his eyes, which his body protested against highly. The sight was quite impressive for one's eyes to behold. Pile of things that only Syaoran himself could identify. In other words, a mountain of garbage.

It was a wonder how he ever managed to pack his suitcase. But again he was wondrous man.

Syaoran had carefully looked through the leather tote, to find his whole wardrobe already prepared. There was hardly a piece of clothing that didn't come from a well known fashion designer. Along with it came a bullet-prove vest. Two handguns were tucked inside an X-ray safe case along with several boxes of bullets.

His fake passport and background info were already in his hands. His name was Uruki Yamamoto. His career was a doctor. Taki mentioned that Tomoyo and Eriol managed to make fake invitations to Miss. Takaru's birthday party. It wasn't exactly fool-prove but good enough to pass through the doors.

A sudden flash lit the room. Seconds later following it, a thundering rumble ripped through the calm air. Syaoran stopped in the middle of dragging his suitcase up. He straightened his back and stared out his window. The clouds were heavy and threatened to never let the sun take its role again. The whole sky was washed with grey, navy, and purple. He wondered if anyone was paying any attention to the theatrical performance.

Taking one last glance at his apartment, he left the room.

* * *

_Sorry, for the late update. I actually had this chapter written out a while ago, but didn't have time to post it, since I just came back from my vacation to Canada. I know this chapter sucked a lot...hopefully the next will spice things up a bit._


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N.-Hey I'm back! I've written this also almost three weeks ago, but i just finished editing and adding/writing other things into it today. Thanks for the patience. Well, here it is... _

_Black Dahlia Chapter 3_

Syaoran closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, avoiding the small gasps and squeaks of panic surrounding him. The plane had abruptly accoutered turbulence during mid-flight. Syaoran bit the inside of his mouth in an attempt to stop the residing urge to grab the arm rests in a vain assurance. He felt his heart drop along with the plane along with his full stomach. The salad and sand which threatened to pop right back up his throat in a slobbery mass of goo. A few seconds later the turbulence resided a bit. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Beside him a man was squinting his eyes shut and held his hands in a praying position. Syaoran momentarily glanced at him.

"Oh lord Jesus, spare my life for I would for ever remain in your dept! Oh, please, I still have a girlfriend in Chicago! We haven't met in five years! She is beautiful in all ways like an angel, her kind soul pure and lovely like so. Spare her the sorrow of her hearing upon my death on this ugly plane!"

Syaoran raised an eyebrow. A wonder someone could actually think of that many words to say in times like this.

Syaoran breathed a deep breath of relief when the plane stopped jiggling. He took out his identity packet once again, memorizing the details.

"Sir…Yamamoto? Very sorry for my rudeness, but if I'm correct; you are the famous plastic surgeon Uruki Yamamoto?" The man next to Syaoran exclaimed with surprise. The American's blue eyes flickered from Syaoran to the stack of papers he was holding.

Syaoran narrowed his eyes sneaking a glimpse at the records he was holding.

**Uruki Yamamoto**

**Worldwide known Japanese plastic surgeon, son of Koki Yamamoto and Rin Yamamoto. Koki Yamamoto, also a well known plastic surgeon, died four years later after the birth of his son, leaving radiologist, Rin Yamamoto to take of the Yamamoto heir. The family is said to have a record breaking amount of money, paces away from the legendary Li clan. **

Oops, haven't started reading that part yet, thought Syaoran. Syaoran cleared his throat while crossing his legs, in what he hoped to be a formal position.

"Yes, if you must ask. I am indeed the son of Koki and Rin Yamamoto." He spoke in a deep masculine voice. His amber eyes analyzed the American for any signs of doubt in his words. Thankfully he took the bait quite nicely.

"It is my very highest pleasure to meet the one and only Uruki Yamamoto! In fact, I remember your father had once appointed mine! My name is Roy Cambridge, son of Duke Cambridge. Do you recall anything said about him from your father?"

Syaoran mentally slapped his face, cursing at the person that gave him the seat next to this Roy Cambridge which claims to have been a client of his 'father'. However he kept his face cool and pleasant. A small smile blessing his rigid face.

"I'm afraid, my dear father has never mentioned of you! But I do recall him telling me of a generous and most well known man that could very well be your father. Please forgive my humbleness." Syaoran tilted his head in respect, while his head throbbed in annoyance.

The American beamed with pride. He noticeably puffed his chest out and lifted his chin up. His beige Armani suit crinkled as he lifted a hand for Syaoran to shake.

Syaoran was about to raise his hand when a vibrating noise sounded in his pant pocket. Syaoran muttered an apology to the confused man. "One of my clients..."

He clicked the phone to talk even before he looked at the number. Only several people knew of his new acquainted cell number, Eriol, Tomoyo, and Taki.

Tomoyo had called before the flight. Eriol was the most likely person…

Syaoran eyed the seatbelt sign on above him on the surface of the item storage. It was lit orange and two flight attendants were monitoring the passengers. Syaoran turned towards the small window and hesitantly answered.

"Uruki Yamamoto here…"

Each of them, Tomoyo and Eriol also received an identity. Eriol was a European and Japanese split physiologist. Syaoran snickered at the identity. Jeez, I wonder why, he thought. Tomoyo, who had an amazing love for fashion landed in the role of a woman's fashion designer. Tomoyo was _the _Kikou Li, the one and only 26 year old billionaire in south Japan.

'Loire Vinci' was Eriol's fake identity name. Eriol had specifically insisted on finding a well known person, by the name of Loire, which was his name backwards.

"Sup my dear friend? Loire Vinci here calling!" Eriol announced in a cheerful voice.

Syaoran grimaced. "Lower your voice! Aren't you on a plane? He whispered carefully watching the people around him.

"Not to worry! Not to worry! I'm in the _toilette_." Eriol said this time a pitch lower.

Syaoran blinked back a look of pure agitation. Count on Eriol to be the idiot. What's so sound-prove about a rest room?

"Is this all you have to say…_Loire_? If that's all that I'm going to hang up." Syaoran hissed into his cell phone.

"Wait! Can't you're most caring and loving friend ask about your day? I feel especially hurt to know…."

"You make me feel really…" Roy glanced at Syaoran, confusion clouding over his face. Syaoran avoided his gaze and continued changing his original choice of words "…honored."

Hearing the gasp from Eriol, Syaoran immediately flipped the phone shut.

Syaoran slipped the cell phone into his pant pocket and nodded towards the American. "Nice meeting you, but I am unfortunately very busy."

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Sakura sat in an isolated area in her gate, C 24. She was busy scanning the people surrounding her, while appearing to be filing her nails. Her hair was back to its original style but brown contacts were in place, hiding her green eyes. Her attire included a pair of grey slacks, and a short sleeved teal charmeuse blouse. A black trench coat was added to tie the colors together. Slinked around her right shoulder was a $2000 Fendi Ivory Spy Bag.

Several people stared at her within the hour; their gazes were filled with interest and amazement.

A woman with sleek violet hair took a seat next to Sakura, causing her to jerk her head toward the intruder. The lady seemed not a bit out of place, ignoring the vigorous look she was receiving from the auburn.

Two silver chopstick-like clips were holding a strand of hair from each side of her head, letting the rest cascade down upon her shoulders. A pair of midnight orbs examined Sakura in a knowing manner.

Sakura was about to open her mouth to say something when the woman beat her to it. "Hello. Am I intruding you by sitting here?"

Sakura shook her head and pretended to file her nails again. A swift of perfume entered her nose. Sakura glanced at the woman. Something was definitely strange about her…

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

Three people each dressed plainly like regular civilians sat on the floor of a hotel room.

Sakura among the other two, as the leader sat with her back against the table, looking stressed and annoyed. Chiharu and Jack sat beside her, in similar positions.

"Ne, Sakura-chan, you actually looked beautiful back there in the airport. Very pro." Jack teased her.

Sakura shook her head, while checking her watch. She had adapted the habit to check her watch constantly, even when she didn't need to know the time. The soft click of the minute hand soothed her nerves. They had decided to pull off the stunt tomorrow at thirty minutes after eleven, at the birthday bash-exactly three hours after it begins.

So now, what they were doing was: Messing Around.

Each of them had changed into less flashy clothes, to fit in with the crowd, as teenagers that could barely afford another hotel room.

Chiharu narrowed her eyes at Jack's comment, and prodded her finger harshly into his chest, receiving only a flirtatious grin from him.

Jack was born in Japan, but his mother was a European, so his given name was Jack Higashiyama. He had brown hair that was lightly spiked, and black eyes, that was currently hidden by his contacts. A head taller than both Chiharu and Sakura, he was another victim to girl's attention.

Along with the other two, Chiharu was also another brunette and a extremely good fighter despite her childish looking face.

Sakura turned her head towards the other two, finding them whacking each other with the feather pillows. She was about to say something, before a pillow socked her in the face.

A few seconds later, a red-faced Sakura popped up. This was _so_ on.

Half an hour later, the room was flooded with feathers. Both Sakura and Chiharu giggled as they started playing with Jack's hair, tying it into what they guessed to be a bun, with loose strands sticking out everywhere.

A knock on the door made them stop. Sakura brought her finger to her lips, signaling the others to be quiet. She made her way to the door, opening it to find a man with several boxes of pizza in his hands.

"Room 124, called for room service? Three large cheese and pepperoni pizzas?" He spoke with his eyes, directed to a small notebook he held.

Sakura almost breathed a sigh of relief.

"Is that pizza I smell, Saku baby?" She heard a male voice practically whine at her. She rolled her eyes while tipping the room service.

"I'm definitely hungry! After this…I call the bathroom first!" yelled Chiharu.

To think that tomorrow, they would be out on a mission to steal a priceless item off the hands of the daughter of the Yoshifumi Nakamuru.

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_Well, I'm not going to say much, since I'm already starting on the nect chapter. I hope to post it as soon as possible._ I want at least, 6 reviews before i update again, please. Is it too much to ask for? 


	4. Chapter 4

Hello, everyone. I'm going to direct this story to my other account. **_Crossmyheartforever._** Some of you might already find that there's a duplicate there-well actually no. I changed it/edited and added. So please continue the story. Thank you.

Sweet Remorse

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**PREVIEW**

_Black Dhalia_

_Crossmyheartforever_

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_Chapter 1Prelude _

_11 years ago _

_Sounds of desperate shouts and raw gasps for air imprinted Syaoran's mind. Showers of bullets rained down on the passengers of the plane. It was a perfect blending of music that brought out sadistic pleasure in the terrorists. An air rifle suddenly swiveled acutely to the left, in perfect target for where Syaoran's head was. His amber eyes widened and blinked shut. Half a second tops, Syaoran scrambled under his chair, his arms and legs sprawled out in painful angles. The bullets shot out and dug themselves deep into the armchair. _

_Sometimes when your mind shuts down completely and you're left there to stand completely blank of any thought, your survival instincts kicks in and amazing how fast you can move. The autonomic reflex system, primitive reflexes. Bam, bam, bam, and you happen to live on, take a new course for life. _

Meanwhile, the other passengers that didn't happen to have such luck suffered watching other before them get splattered by their neighbor's and their own blood, waiting for their own turn. The crimson color of life was their last farewell.

_Syaoran reopened his eyes again to find the bodies of both his parents lying on the red-stained carpet of the plane. Small hand guns were clutched tightly in their hands. _

_Mixtures of shock, confusion, fear, depression and self blame filled his sanity. A gunner walked past his hiding place, a twenty or so year old man with mousy black hair surveying the damage. His expression was blank but his eyes were dancing with amusement. _

_Syaoran didn't dare reach his hands toward the guns his parents had with them, and attempt to shoot the man. But he did take notice the badge the man and the rest of the terrorists wore. _

_It was a red circle, with a black flower on it, which he later found to be a group of Japanese terrorists by the name of Black Dalia. _

_At that moment, ten year old Syaoran swore to himself, he would grow up, become a respectable CIA agent like his father and mother and seek revenge. _

♣ ♣ ♣ ♣ ♣

_In another part of the city _

The sky was dimly lit. A greenish glow was lit across the roof tops. Perhaps, it was the spirit of dawn, or the awakening of the death god. Under the pale moon, stood two figures. Their genders which could be scene after walking towards them. A male and a female, hands intertwined.

From the beginning of the night things were determined. Fate decided.

A bloody opening to what was the beginning of a mislead orphan's life. The two figures stood, each facing the eerie darkness. The street lamps were dimly lit, not a sound from humans nor late night prowlers.

In the woman's arms, was a girl, only toddler of age. Her bright green orbs seemed to question the odd behavior of her parents. Again, perhaps everything was already planned. The death of two adults, two lovers, for the life of their child.

All that was heard, were the silent pleads from the woman and the sounds of fighting. At last the sound of a pistol sliced through the atmosphere. Another followed it. No screams came. Simply the cry of the girl being taken away.


End file.
